I'll Be Seeing You
by blacklitchick
Summary: Zombie AU: An alternative reality where Michonne, instead of Morgan, saves Rick after he awakens in the hospital. What happens when the two meet again after facing so much lost and devastation?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Zombie AU: An alternative reality where Michonne, instead of Morgan, saves Rick after he awakens in the hospital. What happens when the two meet again after facing so much lost and devastation?

 **A/N:** This chapter is a bit long, but there's a lot I wanted to convey at the start. I didn't want to split it into two chapters. I hope you enjoy, and as always thank you for reading.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing. None of these characters belong to me.

* * *

Rick's limbs felt paralyzed. He tried to lift his arm to wipe the bead of sweat that was dripping down his forehead, but he was only met with resistance. His chest moved up and down as he took in shallow breaths. He lifted his head, but the heaviness caused it to immediately fall back down. The anticipated hard blow was instead replaced with a deep softness. His brain felt scrambled. It was the second time in a matter of hours or minutes (he couldn't tell for sure) that he was waking up perplexed. He laid there with his eyes closed hoping the first time was a dream and his family was somewhere nearby. He tried to move again and felt a deep pressure on his wrists and ankles. It was then he realized his arms and legs with tied to something. He moved his head. The softness he laid under reminded him of those Memory pillows Lori loved to buy.

He was tied to a bed.

He opened his eyes when he heard voices talking faintly around him. His blurry vision focused on two bodies standing at the foot of the bed.

"...not a walker..."

"...supposed to know..."

"...talked...things don't fucking talk."

From the cadence of their voices he knew the two people were arguing. He tried to speak. To ask what was happening; what was going on. But all that came out was a strangled cough. The two figures turned towards him. One rushed over to where he laid. Rick could feel long hair brush against his bearded cheek as the person bent slightly over him. He blinked his eyes rapidly in succession until the figure became clear. A woman with dark skin looked down at him. Her eyes held a mixture of suspicion, fear, and concern.

"Hey," she said, "what happened to you?" She gestured with her hand towards his bandaged torso.

"What happened?" Confusion marred Rick's face. He thought he should be the one asking that question.

"Were you bitten?" The woman asked a little more forcefully. She placed the back on her hand on his forehead. "He doesn't have a fever, Terry," she said to the man still standing at the foot of the bed gripping a bat nervously.

Rick's police mind took over for a moment as he noticed the man's medium height and medium build. He internally debated whether he could take him one on one if he needed to escape.

"That doesn't mean anything, Michonne. He could develop one at any moment. I told you we should have left him out there," Terry said.

"What if this isn't a bite? I couldn't leave him out there to get eaten by one of those things," she said.

Rick ran the names Michonne and Terry through his cobwebbed brain. Neither sounded familiar. Just as he was about to ask why they were holding him hostage another man walked into the room carrying a toddler in his arms.

"Sometimes it takes a little while for the fever to set in. Remember back at the condo with Rodney," the man said.

Michonne's face immediately softened at the man and boy. She nodded her head at his words. "Right," she said. "It took him about three days to get a fever."

"And only a few hours to turn," Terry said.

All the adult eyes in the room fell on Rick as the toddler started to struggle in the man's arms while reaching for Michonne.

"Mommy," he whimpered.

Michonne rushed over to where they stood in the doorway and pulled the boy into her arms. "Hey Peanut. Mommy's here. Don't be scared." She placed three quick kisses on the top of his head and tickled his tummy. The boy's laughter filled the small room.

Rick closed his eyes again feeling a pain much deeper than his physical body could produce as he thought of his own son.

"You weren't there when he woke up from his nap," The man crossed his arms and took a step away from Michonne. "He's used to you being around all the time."

Michonne tried to hold eye contact with the man, but he looked away from her. "I know, Mike," she smoothed down the boy's hair. "This is taking longer than I thought."

Mike looked briefly over at Rick. "Well, it's good you're being more lenient with who's one of those things and who's not."

"Mike..."

"Never mind," he said. He tilted his chin towards Rick. "He's still not talking?"

"No," she said. "I'm not sure he understands what's going on. I cleaned his wound. It doesn't look like a bite mark, but you never know."

Rick coughed again as he tried to speak. "Shot...somebody shot me." He was finally able to say.

Michonne sat the boy down on the floor. She grabbed something from behind the door that Rick couldn't see. When she walked backed to the bed he saw a long sword encased in her hand. His body reacted instinctively with muscles tightening in fear, but his body relaxed again as their eyes met. There's was something about her stare that instantly brought a semblance of comfort to him.

"Nothing has bitten you?" She asked.

Rick's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Like an animal?"

"No," she knelt down, "like a person."

Rick looked deeply into her eyes trying to understand. "Why would someone bite me?"

Michonne looked closely at him. There was a deep sadness in his eyes that made her heart contract in sympathy. "Where have you been the last few weeks?" She asked him softly.

Rick face contorted into a grimace. It was all beginning to be too much for him. "Nothing's makes sense anymore." His words were barely audible.

Michonne reached out to gently massage the spot between his eyebrows until his face relaxed. She looked up at Mike and Terry. "Why don't you guys go get dinner started. I think I can handle him from here."

Mike frowned at her. "You sure?"

"Yeah. I think he's telling the truth about getting shot," she said.

"How?" Mike asked.

Michonne shrugged. "I just do. You know my gut is rarely wrong. I have my sword. I'll be fine.

Mike looked down at her sword as his frown deepened. "What if you're wrong this time?"

"Mike, please." Michonne stood up exasperated. She swung an unruly dread back over her shoulder.

"Fine," he said. He picked up the boy from the floor and waved for Terry to lead the way out of the room. He turned before exiting. "I hope you're right about this, Michonne."

Rick watched as her face went through a plethora of emotions in a few seconds. Anger, sadness, resignation, and finally determination. She rotated her shoulders back and stood up straighter before looking down at Rick. Her sad smile didn't reach her eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," she said. In four quick motions she cut all the ties that were binding him to the bed. Rick slowly swung his legs to the floor as he sat up. He was impressed by how expertly she wielded the sword. He usually would feel embarrassed sitting there with a woman, who wasn't his wife, in only his boxers and a hospital gown, but now wasn't the time for petty concerns.

He rubbed his wrists as memories from earlier in the day came back to him.

"I saw you shoot a man," he said. "I was outside of my house and you shot a man."

"That wasn't a man."

Rick cocked his head to the side. "He was my neighbor Bill. He was definitely a man."

"Not anymore, he wasn't. You really don't know what's going?" Michonne asked.

"No," He blew out a breath and threw his hands in the air. "All I know is I woke up in the hospital today to a world I don't recognize. Please tell me what's happening."

Michonne sat next to him on the bed. She kept her eyes straight forward on the opposite wall. "There's a virus. The whole world is infected. No one's sure how it started. It's been weeks now. Two months maybe. I don't keep up much with dates anymore." She started tapping her sword up and down on the floor. "The news reported it as a pandemic of people infecting others through bites. It was strange to see on TV. These things that used to be human roaming the streets." She looked at Rick and saw he was watching her closely. "It's even stranger seeing it live and in person. It starts with a fever. It burns you out. You die. Then you come back craving flesh."

Sounds of preparations for their bare bones dinner drifted in from the front room, but Rick and Michonne sat in silence. Rick gripped the mattress with both hands. His mouth was opening and closing not knowing what he could say. "Shit," he finally said.

Michonne tore her eyes away from Rick and looked back to the wall. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction too. The news and power went dark a couple weeks ago. We have no idea what's going on in the rest of the world anymore, but right here in King's County the dead are walking among us."

Rick wanted to argue with her; to deny everything she was saying. But he couldn't because of all he'd witnessed that day and for some reason he trusted her. He knew she was telling the truth.

Michonne pushed herself off the bed and walked to the window. She looked at the chaos of the streets from a small hole in the blinds. "I never did ask you your name," she said while her back was still to him.

"Rick."

"I'm Michonne."

"I know," he said. "I heard Terry call you that. Is Mike your husband?"

He watched as her long dreads shook. "No. Boyfriend."

"And your son?"

She turned around then. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful her smile was as she talked about her son. "Andre Anthony. He's my world."

Her smile made his own mouth turn up slightly at the obvious deep love she had for the boy. They made eye contact again. Something in her eyes made him not want to look away, but he finally did as he looked around the room.

"This is Mrs. Sanders' house. Her guest room. I helped her hang those curtains over there," he said.

"Nana Sanders," Michonne said. "She was Mike's Grandmother."

"Is she here?"

Michonne turned back to the window and started slowly spinning the sword in her hand. "Mike spoke with Nana on the phone before the power and everything went out. She was scared, but was okay. The plan was to swing by here, pick her up, and then head back to Atlanta to one of the camps the government set up. We couldn't find her when we first arrived. Her bedroom was locked. We could hear noises behind the door so Mike tried to kick it down." She paused. Rick waited patiently for her to go on. "I've been the one going out getting food, checking on friends and neighbors since the beginning. I've become well acquainted with these things. The sound they make is disgusting. I sometimes hear it in my sleep. So I knew. Before he opened that door I knew."

"She had turned into one," Rick said.

"She lunged at him as soon as the door opened. Went right for his neck. I stuck my sword through her head before she had a chance. Andre was crying in my arms as I put that thing masquerading as Nana out of her misery. Mike was yelling that I killed his grandmother. She must have died recently because she didn't look as rotted as a lot of them. But the noises she made. And the eyes," Michonne shuddered. "They have the most god-awful eyes. There was no mistaking what she was."

"Mike must realize now what she was," Rick said. "After the shock wore off."

Michonne sighed and turned around again. Unshed tears shone in her eyes. "You would think but...," She shrugged. "He hasn't forgiven me yet even though I saved his life. Sometimes it feels like he's afraid of me now." She walked back over to where Rick still sat on the bed. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. I guess I just needed a friend."

Rick felt the urge to hug her, but he stayed planted on the edge of the bed.

Michonne placed a hand lightly on Rick's shoulder. "I think Mike may have some clothes that'll fit you. I'll go get them. Then you can come out and eat dinner with us."

Rick watched as she walked out of the room.

* * *

Michonne cleaned the table with one hand as she held Andre firmly on her hip with the other. She kept sneaking glances at Rick where he sat on the couch. He was quiet during dinner, and had just been staring into space for the past fifteen minutes or so.

Mike and Terry were in the kitchen supposedly inventorying their supplies, but Michonne knew they had found Nana's liquor cabinet. They were currently trading shots of twenty year old Cognac. She sighed and threw the paper towel she was holding into a nearly full trash bag. She walked further into the front room and sat on the floor across from the couch Rick occupied.

"I hear them," he said.

"There's more out there than usual. I shouldn't have used my gun earlier. Noise attracts them," she said.

"Is that why you have the sword?" He asked.

"Yeah. Does what needs to be done quietly."

Andre struggled off of her lap. He walked over to Rick and grabbed onto one of his legs. He looked up at the man and smile. "Hi," he said.

Michonne smiled brightly again. "He's a very friendly kid."

"I can see that," Rick said. He reached down and brought Andre to his lap. "Hey little guy. How are you doing?"

"My name is Andre," he said pointing to himself. He then pointed to Michonne. "That's Mommy."

Rick couldn't help but to smile. "Well, I'm Rick." He clasped Andre's hand in his in a handshake. "It is very nice to meet you."

"Reek," Andre said we glee. He stood on his little toddler legs and gave Rick a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Okay, Andre go back to Mommy now." He waved at Rick and climbed down from the couch. He ran and threw his arms around his mother as he settled back on her lap. Michonne hugged him tightly and placed kisses all over his face.

The smile never left Rick's face as he watched them.

Mike and Terry walked into the room then laughing loudly and dapping each other over who knows what.

"Shh," Michonne hushed them.

Terry rolled his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond until Mike gave him a friendly pat on the chest and shake of the head.

Mike joined Michonne on the floor giving her a kiss on the shoulder, and Andre's hand a little squeeze. Michonne didn't comment on the sweet smell of alcohol on his breath. She was just happy he was back to being the man she fell in love with for a little while.

Terry sat on the couch next to Rick. "So me and Mike have a little bet going about how you ended up with bullet in you. My man here says you were in an O.K. Corral type shoot out." Terry placed one hand on his chest. "Me though? I think your woman caught you cheating and took care of business. So which is it? The last can of fruit cocktail is riding on this."

Rick looked to Michonne who seemed amused by the exchange and then back to Terry. "Sorry, but Mike has it right. I'm the most wanted man in Georgia. You've probably seen my picture on the news."

"Goddamnit," Terry said as he and Mike laughed.

Michonne tensed at the ruckus they were making, but said nothing this time.

"I'll of course share with you, baby." Mike kissed her on the shoulder again. "So for real, Rick, what happened to you?"

Rick ran his hands down the rough material of his borrowed jeans. "I'm a Sheriff's Deputy. I was shot in the line of duty."

"Shit, man," Mike said, "that sucks."

Rick cocked his head to the side and back upright again. "Tell me about it."

Mike tilted his head towards the stairs signaling Terry. He caught on to the meaning immediately. "Oh right. Michonne, if you approve, your lover and I will be going upstairs to make sure everything looks safe from up top."

"Man, you're not funny." Mike gave both Michonne and Andre cheek kisses. "I won't be long, baby." He was always overly affectionate when he was drunk.

Michonne smiled tightly. It was strained and didn't reach her eyes. She watched as the two men pounded up the stairs. She was so lost in her thoughts for a few moments shock registered over her when Rick was no longer sitting on the couch once she tore her gaze away from the stairs. He was instead standing in front of the window.

"What do you see?" She asked.

Rick watched the undead wander aimlessly through the streets of where he called home for so many years. "I see my house across the street. It looks more like a tomb than a home right now." He hung his head to try to keep the tears at bay.

"How long have you been married?"

"Thirteen years," Rick said while looking at his wedding ring.

"Your wife's Lori? Your son's Carl?"

Rick looked up with a start. "Do you know them? Have you seen them?"

Michonne shook her head. "No. You said their names after Terry hit you with the bat earlier. Before you passed out."

Rick blew out a breath. The few seconds of hope followed by disappointment felt crushing. "They weren't in the house. There was no trace of them there. It's like they don't exist anymore," Rick rubbed his eyes. "Lori's strong in a lot of ways, but I don't know if she would be able to defend herself and Carl against one of those things."

"People can surprise you," Michonne pointed towards of sword in the corner. "I never knew I would be a pretty good samurai."

"How'd you end up with it?" He asked

"Found it just laying on the sidewalk in front of our high-rise. Once we figured out how to kill those things it became invaluable."

The noises from outside began to get louder and closer. Rick turned back to the window. "Should we be concerned?"

"As long as they don't see us, we'll be fine. They can't open doors, but if enough of them pile together they could break through the glass."

Rick moved away from the windows and for the first time noticed a crate holding vinyl records in the corner next to Michonne's sword. He bent down to look through them. "Are these Mrs. Sanders' records?" He asked.

Michonne gave him a sheepish grin. "No, they're mine."

"You brought your records with you?" Rick gave her a curious look.

"Yeah, I know, but they hold a sentimental value. I inherited them from my dad. He was a jazz connoisseur. We used to listen to them while my mom made Sunday brunch. These records are responsible for some of my fondest memories." She reached into the crate to pull out a Billie Holiday album with a black and white cover. "My favorite is Billie Holiday. The song 'I'll Be Seeing You' never fails to calm my mind. I even brought my portable record player with me. I'd love to listen to it right now, but I can't justify the use of battery power. Or the noise."

"I think it's kind of nice that you brought them. Hang on a little to your old self," Rick said.

Michonne smiled at the sincerity of his words. "Yeah, but I know it's a kinda a silly thing to bring in the middle of the end of the world."

Rick became serious. "Do you really think this is the end?"

"The dead are rising. It has to be a road paved to the end at least. Doesn't mean that we can't block its path though."

"Wasn't there something similar described in Revelations?" Rick hadn't stepped foot in a church since his mother's funeral, but he remembered some of his Sunday school teachings.

"I believe so. Though I haven't stepped foot in a church for a long time," Michonne said.

"I guess God can't help us now," Rick said.

"If he ever could," replied Michonne.

The scent that traveled down from upstairs was not unfamiliar to Rick. He had smelt it many times when he was called to break up wild parties. And a time or two or twenty back in high school with Shane behind the bleachers. Michonne noticed the look of recognition on his face.

"That's how they cope," she said.

He noticed how her face contorted as she spoke. "But you don't agree?"

She looked briefly behind them at the staircase then back down to Andre who'd fallen asleep on her lap. "I've never thought smoking weed was a big deal. I was known to partake myself back in the day but," she shook her head, "we're in a different time. Something really fucking major is going on. I understand the need to escape mentally, but being alert is a must right now. They can't take care of themselves much less Andre if they're always high."

"Seems like you're doing a pretty good job of taking care of yourself and everyone else. You're obviously a strong woman," Rick said.

Michonne tensed. She bit down slightly on her bottom lip and looked over to the stairs hearing the laughter of the two men again. "People have called me that most of my life. Sometimes it feels more like an insult than a compliment."

Rick raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?" He hoped he hadn't offended her in any way.

"Can I be honest with you, Rick? I don't know why, but I feel like I can tell you things I'd normally keep inside."

"You can," Rick said. He didn't know why he felt so safe with her either, but she was a comforting presence in this new found chaos.

"I'm tired. Tired of always having to be strong. I want to yell, scream, and cry at this fucked up situation we're in. But I have to keep going. My baby boy needs me. Keeping him safe is the only thing that matters right now."

Rick stared at the woman who was radiating equally vulnerability and strength. He swallowed hard fighting the urge that had come over him again to comfort her. "Well, you're welcome to cry, scream, and yell in front of me," he said. "I have to warn you though. I'll probably be right there with you doing the same."

Rick felt proud when she graced him with the smile she usually reserved for Andre.

She stood up careful not to jar the toddler from his slumber. "We should get some rest. It's been a long day." She pointed to a stack of blankets and a pillow. "You can sleep on the couch if you want. Me and Peanut sleep in the make shift bed over there. Terry and Mike are usually up late."

Both took a few minutes to get comfortable in their respective beds for the night. Rick looked up at the ceiling willing his mind to shut off so he could sleep.

"Just think of the mountains and the sea. The tranquility helps ease the mind enough to fall asleep." Michonne's soft voice cut through the agony his mind was putting him through.

"I've never seen the mountains. Been to the beach only a handful of times."

"Think of the waves lulling you to sleep."

Rick closed his eyes and thought about the last family trip he took. He saw Lori taking pictures as he and Carl threw a football on the sand. Everyone was smiling and happy. He closed his eyes with a sad smile on his face.

"Good night, Rick."

"Good night, Michonne."

* * *

The next morning she found Rick in the back yard staring at the trees, then the ground and back up again. He turned his head slightly to acknowledge he knew she was there, but kept going through his routine. "Everything looks so normal," he said. "Flowers are blooming. The oak trees are still mighty. How can all of this be the same when everything else is so different?"

Michonne crossed her arms over her torso. "I wish I had answers." She looked around the yard. "You shouldn't be out here alone. It's not safe."

"In the backyard? How can they get in here?" He asked.

"They're more resourceful than they look. You can never be too careful."

"I still don't understand any of this," he said.

"I was wide awake when this all started, and I still don't understand either. I can't imagine how you're feeling," she said.

"Like Tom Cruise is going to come around that corner at any moment and I'll realize I'm in the middle of a movie and not real life."

"Tom Cruise? He's way too short. I would have said Denzel Washington or Will Smith. Maybe Daniel Craig."

Rick smirked at her. "I guess I should have said Angelina Jolie or Halle Berry. That'll at least make this movie more interesting for me."

Michonne smiled back at him. "Your very own Bond girls. I guess a man can dream."

An old jazz tune started to drift into the backyard. Michonne recognized the Duke Ellington classic. She sighed. "He shouldn't be playing the music so loud or wasting the batteries." She started walking back to the house.

"Wait," Rick grabbed her arm, "Your records."

Michonne looked at him in confusion. "What about the records?"

"You saved your records. You brought them with you." Rick ran back into the house towards the front door. Michonne followed closely after him.

Mike was sleeping off his hangover next to a still slumbering Andre. Terry sat on the floor picking through her crate of albums.

"Cut that shit down." She said in a loud voice so he could hear her over the music.

"Why did you bring these damn things if she didn't want anyone to listen to them," Terry muttered but he shut down the music.

Michonne caught up with Rick. "Wait before you go out there."

"I have to get to my house." He wore a look of determination.

"Okay, but wait. We have to be prepared."

Michonne grabbed her sword and handed Rick a knife from the kitchen. She slowly opened the door. The cluster of walkers from the night before had cleared. Only one lingered in the front yard. She looked back at Rick with one raised eyebrow. He nodded understanding what she was conveying to him. Following her out of the door, he gripped the knife in his hand and went in for the kill right as the walker turned to him. He recognized the undead thing as his neighbor Fred from down the road. The knife landed into Fred's shoulder. He went down, but immediately reached out for Rick's legs. The steel blade of the katana pierced his brain before he could hook his rotted hands on Rick.

"Always go for the brain," Michonne said. "It's the only thing that'll kill them."

There were more walkers down the street, but were far enough away for the two of them to safely get across the street to Rick's house. Michonne watched as he frantically search the living room drawers.

"What's going on Rick?"

"The pictures. All of the pictures are gone. Our wedding photos, Carl's school pictures. Last night you said you brought your records because they were sentimental. Lori is the same way about our family photos. They're not here. She took them. They're alive. She and Carl are alive." He had tears in his eyes.

Michonne's own eyes started to tear up. She looked quickly away. She wanted him to find his family almost as much as he did. "You should go to Atlanta," she said. "Camps were being set up all over the city. I'd say that's where they escaped to."

Rick went into the kitchen and found the keys he was hoping were still hanging on the wall. "I have an idea," he said.

* * *

Rick felt more like himself as he walked to the front of the Sheriff's station dressed in his uniform. Michonne and Andre, freshly showered and smiling, were sitting at Rick's desk. He watched as she bounced the boy on her lap, talking to him softly. Andre smiled at what she was saying and then broke out in a fit of giggles when as she tickled him. Rick felt himself grinning at their interaction, but it soon turned into a frown as he thought of Carl and Lori. He missed his wife and son more than he could say. He felt as if he hadn't seen them in months yet also as if he'd just seen them yesterday. Michonne looked over at him noticing the sadness that had overcome him.

"You're going to find Lori and Carl. I feel it," she said.

"How can you be so sure?" Rick asked; desperate for her to be right.

"I have a sixth sense about these things," she said with a smirk, "My grandmother always told me so."

"You can see into the future?" Rick asked with a smirk on his face similar to hers.

"Not quite. Just a feeling I get sometimes."

Rick sat on the edge of his desk. He looked out of the window at the deserted streets. He was ready to start the search for his family, but he had an ache is his gut that told him that he'd never see his hometown again as it used to be. That nothing will ever be the same again. Maybe he had a sixth sense too. He opened his mouth to say as much to Michonne, but was caught off guard by the intensity of her stare as he locked eyes with her again. He read a fear in her face similar to what must have been on his. They both looked away at the same time. But Rick eyes soon found his way back to her. He studied her profile. She sat regal. She _was_ strong, but the slight slump of her shoulders showed him how the weight of responsibility was dragging her down.

"Come with me." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I know you want to get back to Atlanta. We can look out for each other."

"I can't, Rick. Mike's not ready to go back yet. I'm sure he will soon. Don't let what I said last night taint your opinion of him. I was just blowing off some steam. He's going to be there for me and Andre. I know it."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" Rick asked.

Michonne shot up from the desk chair; holding Andre tightly in her arms. "Look you don't really know us. You can save your judgment."

Rick held up his hand. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just want you and Andre to be safe."

"We will be," Michonne said. She softened her tone. "Thank you for caring. I didn't mean to get so defensive."

"You don't ever have to apologize to me for your emotions, Michonne." Rick started to reach out his arm to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself. A tension hung in the air. It wasn't combative, but something much deeper.

Rick took out a pair of walkie talkies from the police bag he'd filled with weapons and supplies. "At least take one of these. Turn it on every morning at 6:00 am so we can touch base daily."

Michonne nodded as she took the device from him; their fingers brushed together slightly. "We'll meet again in Atlanta."

"I'm counting on it," Rick said.

"Walkie", Andre shouted from his spot on Michonne's hip.

She laughed. "I guess we have Andre's seal of approval."

Mike and Terry soon joined them up front and the group made their way outside. The streets were still clear except for one walker on the other side of the fence wearing a Sheriff's uniform.

"I know him," Rick said. "Awful deputy, but he doesn't deserve that fate."

"Go ahead," Michonne said. "I'll take care of him."

He nodded his thank you.

"Deputy Grimes," Mike reached out his hand to him, "thank you for this man. The hot shower is just what we needed."

"No, I'm the one that needs to be thanking y'all. I wouldn't have survived if you hadn't found me," he said as the two men shook hands.

He stood in front of Michonne. "I like the newly clean shaven look." She pointed her finger in a circle around his face. "It works for you."

Rick ducked his head and felt his smooth face suddenly feeling bashful.

"I'll be seeing you, Rick," she said.

"See you, Michonne." He watched the two men load up their truck with the supplies he'd given them from the station. He looked back to Michonne with squinted eyes. She mouthed, _We'll be fine,_ to him. He nodded and rubbed Andre's little curls. "See you later, little guy."

"Reek go bye, bye?" Andre asked.

"Just bye, bye for now," Rick answered.

It was past noon; not wanting to delay his trip any further, Rick climbed into his squad car and drove slowly down the driveway. Before turning onto the street he looked into his rear view mirror, locking eyes one last time with Michonne before beginning the journey to find his family.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** **Thank you for all for the great response to the first chapter. All of the reviews, favorites, and follows make my** **writer's** **heart soar.**

* * *

Michonne sat on the side of the road feeding Andre the last of her water supply. The Georgia sun seemed hotter than usual. It felt like punishment for the earth's current state of death and decay. Her dreads were pulled high on her head. The white tank top she wore felt like a second, uncomfortable skin as sweat drenched her body. No bra was worn underneath. The thin white material didn't leave much to the imagination, but modestly wasn't forefront in her concerns at the moment.

She stood up and surveyed the area. Nothing but empty roads and woods surrounded them. They hadn't seen a walker in a couple miles. They hadn't seen _anything_ in a couple of miles. Mike was across the road from his family with his head bowed and back turned. Terry sat a couple feet further up drinking steadily from his canteen.

Michonne secured a slightly too big baseball cap on Andre's head to protect him from the sun. She slung her backpack - containing the few items they could still say they owned - on her shoulder. Andre fidgeted on her hip having just been awakened from a restless nap. She gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head while watching Mike. He hadn't moved from his position since they decided to stop and rest twenty minutes earlier. The sun made his dark skin glisten. Michonne thought he looked like a beautiful statue. Taking a deep breath she crossed the road - almost laughing at herself because she still looked both ways. Lifelong habits are hard to break even in the apocalypse.

He flinched when she touched his arm, but relaxed once he saw it was her.

"We can't stay out here in the open too long," she said, "it's best to keep moving."

"Where are we going?" He asked without really looking at her.

"I'm pretty sure this is the area where my Dad used to take us camping. If I'm right there's campgrounds and outdoor showers somewhere in these woods. Won't be a permanent fix, but it's at least somewhere we can regroup."

"You're banking our safety on some campgrounds that might not even be there anymore?" Mike finally looked at her. Michonne didn't want to admit how much the emptiness of his eyes scared her.

"I don't see anyone else coming up with a better plan," she said quietly.

"Staying in King's County would have been the better choice."

"There wasn't anything left for us there. We had to keep moving."

Mike pushed passed her to stand in the middle of the road."

We have no home, no car, and barely any food," he said. "What has moving around done for us?"

"Mike, if we just find somewhere for tonight and -"

"Don't you get it, Michonne," Mike yelled cutting her off. "We are out here alone. We haven't seen another person all day. As far as I can see we're the only people left on this gotdamn planet."

Michonne tried to remain calm. She didn't want to scare an already antsy Andre with the hurt masquerading as rage that was bumbling underneath her surface. "We can't stay here on this road, Mike," she said evenly. "More walkers than we can handle could come up on us at anytime."

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad," he casually shrugged, "get the inevitable out of the way."

The dam holding back Michonne's emotions finally broke. "Fuck you." The words came out in harsh whisper. She turned from him and started walking back down the road. "You know what," she called to him over her shoulder, "You can give up. I don't care. You and your buddy over there can stay out here and die, but I getting my son to some place safe."

"Michonne wait." Mike ran after her. "Why don't you tell me what the hell there is to live for anymore? How could you not give up hope after seeing Atlanta again? It was destroyed by the government. There's no help coming our way. All the major cities across the world are probably gone." He caught up to her; blocking her path. His eyes were challenging; daring her to prove him wrong. "The only thing we have to our name is what's on our backs. What's the point of just surviving?"

She pulled the baseball cap tighter over Andre's ears as if the small gesture would protect his innocence against the cruel words his parents were hurling at each other. "If you had been keeping watch instead of being drunk and high all the time then maybe our things wouldn't have been stolen. We wouldn't be out her stranded. If you really want to die I'm not going to stop you. I'm the only reason you're still alive anyway."

Mike laughed without an ounce of humor. He rubbed his hands together before crossing his arms over his chest. "So I guess you're hot shit now because you've gone all samurai. Living in this world doesn't bother you."

Michonne got closer until she stood toe to toe with him. "That's right. I am hot shit because my shit is always together. Go out on your own. I don't give a damn. Me and Andre will be okay."

Michonne stalked off. She stopped when she realized both of her hands were noticeably shaking. Fearing she would drop Andre she sat him down on the ground. The shaking made its way over her whole body causing her to drop to her knees.

Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes. She rubbed them with the heel of her hands to try to relieve the heaviness. "How can you look at your son and think there's nothing left to live for?" The pain in her voice was palpable. "Don't you want to him to have a chance to live? To grow up?" Her eyes spilled over as the tears finally made good on their threat.

Mike stood looking at the back of the woman he was sure he was in love with since the moment he laid eyes on her across the auditorium at freshman orientation. The woman who wouldn't give him the time of day until after they graduated. The woman who made his life so much better the day she said she loved him too. He wanted to stop her pain, but no comforting words came to him.

"Grow up to do what, Michonne? Become a Zombie Slayer," he said.

Michonne scoffed and looked up at the sky; silently willing the universe to give her anything to help make things better.

Mike knelt down in front of her. "I wish I had your hope, but you know how I am." He ran his hand over his face. "I don't want us to die, but I see no way out of this."

Michonne lifted his hand from his face and intertwined his fingers with hers. "I have enough hope for the both of us. Please just try. That's all I ask. Just try."

He griped her hand tighter. "I don't know if I can, Michonne."

She nodded and untangled herself from him. "Fine." With a new determination she stood, secured Andre back on her hip, and marched off the road and into the wooded area.

Terry jumped to his feet and followed Michonne. He turned - walking backwards - and shrugged at Mike. "What else are we going to do, man," he said.

Mike waited a beat or two before following suit. He looked longingly behind him towards the road thinking it would be so easy to walk off into oblivion until he was no more. To be delivered from the fear constantly racing through his body for good.

They weren't sure where she was headed, but her quick steps made it obvious she had a destination in mind. After about a half-hour of walking they reached a clearing that displayed a freshwater creek.

"I knew it was somewhere around here," she said more to herself than anyone else. She sat at the edge of the creek, placing Andre between her legs. She took off her shoes. Her toes burned in pain from being cramped in tight boots all day. The cool water immediately started to relieve the tension in her body when she dunked her feet underneath.

Mike sat next to Michonne. She kept her back turned slightly towards him. He watched as she tore a piece of fabric from an old shirt, and splashed it with creek water before gently wiping Andre's face. He took off his shoes mimicking her position in the water.

"What happens if I try and it's not enough?" Mike asked. He clasped his hands on his knees looking down at his reflection in the water. Michonne said nothing as she cupped more water in her hand and rubbed it through the boy's curls; trying to cool him down.

"It's just hard for me." Mike went on; making small rivets in the water with his foot.

"It's hard for everyone. You don't have a monopoly on pain," she finally said to him.

He just nodded staring at the side of her face. He reached for Andre. Michonne held her son a little tighter as if she didn't want to trust him with his father. She finally relented and Mike sat him on his lap.

There they all sat silently while munching on some wild berries Michonne found earlier in the day. Terry took more sips from the warm liquid in his canteen. The whiskey didn't do much to quench his thirst, but it helped relieve him from his constant state of defeat.

Michonne stood scrunching her toes in the warm dirt. She looked towards the north. "We need to rest. I think the campgrounds are maybe a mile or two from here. If we start walking now - "Her words abruptly stopped as a loud rustling sound amplified through the bushes opposite the creek.

She unsheathed her katana slowly. She held up one finger hoping Mike and Terry understood she meant for them to be quiet. She walked on the tips of her bare toes around the body of water. Both hands now clutched the sword. The front of a brown boot came into her view; inching out from underneath the bushes. She raised her weapon higher. Angling her body for full attack mode, she stepped back ready to swing when she heard a cough and a muttered, _shit,_ from a female voice. Before she had time to react to the new information a gunshot broke the silence.

"Ah." A woman in dark clothes fell from the bushes.

"Terry, what the hell?" Michonne shouted rushing over to check on the woman. She stopped and reverted back to fight mode when a large man came out of the bushes with his gun drawn. Terry immediately threw up his hands in surrender.

"Sasha, you okay?" The man said with panic in his voice. He went down to his knees to help the woman.

Sasha raised her head slowly. "Yeah, Ty. It didn't get me. I just tripped." She stood, dusting off the dirt from her pants. She glared over at Terry who still held the gun in his hand. "Fucking for real?"

She took a step towards Terry before a strong hand pulled her back.

"I thought you were a walker," Terry said in his defense.

"We're not the dead," the man said. "We're here just like you to get some water." He nodded at Mike who was trying to quiet down a crying Andre. "We didn't mean to scare you or your kid."

Michonne walked back around the creek to help calm her boy down. "No, we're sorry," she said shooting Terry a glare of her own. "I guess we're just on edge." She looked at Sasha. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Been through worst than almost getting shot." She removed some wayward leaves from her hair.

"I'm Tyreese and this is my sister Sasha. Where are you people headed?" The big man asked.

"Just trying to find a place to sleep for the night," Mike said.

Tyreese and Sasha looked at each other; communicating silently. Sasha seemed reluctant at first but finally conceded with a nod.

"We're a part of a camp with about twenty people," she said, "on some grounds a couple miles up. People have set up tents and RVs. Even put up a fence to keep the dead away. There's plenty of room for more."

Michonne smiled slightly and let out a breath of relief. "That's where we were headed. I knew there was a campground somewhere around here."

"You all seem like good people. You'll be a welcomed addition. Shooting without thinking notwithstanding," Tyreese said. Terry had the good sense to look down in guilt.

The group gathered their things and started trekking towards the camp. Tyreese led the way with Michonne and Sasha in the middle. Mike and Terry followed in the rear.

"Mommy, we go night, night?" Andre yawned and rubbed his eyes.

"Soon, baby. You'll have somewhere to sleep soon," Michonne said. Her earlier crying was almost a memory now, but her eyes were heavy with the tears still left unshed. She thought of Rick - as she often did these past few weeks. She wondered what he would think of her almost fulfilling her need to cry, scream, and yell.

The sky was getting noticeably darker. The day felt like it had being going on for decades. She was so tired she could barely walk straight, but one foot kept going automatically in front of the other.

"Must be hard," Sasha said, "surviving all of this with a kid."

"It's certainly not easy." Michonne looked at the woman whose eyes were full of understanding.

Sasha smiled as Andre laid his head in the crock of Michonne's neck. "I have to warn you. There are a few unsavory types at the camp. Some drinking and some drugs. Nothing too out of hand, but just be on the lookout." A walker came stumbling from around a tree. Michonne immediately took her sword and cut off its head without missing a beat. "But it seems like you will have no problem handling yourself." Sasha stood back looking impressed by the killing skills.

Michonne shrugged. "No choice but to."

A short while later the camp came into view. A large confederate flagged hung high from the top of the front entrance. Sasha gave Michonne a knowing smirk. "It might be the apocalypse, but we're still deep in backwoods Georgia. It's safer than being out there though."

They walked deeper into the camp passing RVs and countless tents neatly lined up on either side of the camp creating a makeshift dirt road down the middle.

"Kevin is the de facto leader," Sasha continued to explain. "He likes to talk a good game, but doesn't really do anything. There he is over there."

She pointed to a man over six feet tall wearing a black tank and army green vest with an American flag emblem sewed on the front. He was standing near an RV with a cigarette in his mouth. Michonne idly wondered what he used to slick back his long hair into a greasy ponytail. He walked over when he spotted the group. He had a fake cowboy stance with his thumbs clutched through his belt loops.

"Ty-dog. Sasha-baby. Y'all are back and brought some peeps with you." He drawled out.

"He likes to be down when he talks to those of us of a certain hue if you know what I mean," Sasha muttered under her breath. "Just ignore his lameness."

"What we got here?" Kevin asked looking from Mike to Terry and back to Michonne. He didn't so much look at her face as his eyes couldn't stop focusing on her chest in the thin tank top.

"We met them at the creek," Tyreese said. "Told them we have enough room to house them. They're good people."

"Yessiree we got the room," Kevin said finally pulling his eyes away from Michonne's chest. He almost flinched when he looked back up at the murderous gaze in her eyes. "Right. Over yonder is a tent big enough for your crew. If you homies and little homie would just follow me I'll hustle you on over to your new crib."

Sasha rolled her eyes and touched Michonne's forearm. "I'll let you all get settled and talk to you later."

Before the woman could leave, Michonne wrapped her into a quick a hug. "Thank you for this. I appreciate it more than you know."

Sasha smiled softly. "Don't mention it. We all have to look out for each other to get through this."

* * *

Michonne had never felt more grateful as she laid a sleeping Andre on one of the cots in their tent. Their bellies were full thanks to the deer a fellow camper had tracked and caught. Venison was never on her most delectable list, but if asked she wouldn't hesitate to say it was the best meal she'd eaten.

She sat on the edge of the cot rummaging through her backpack to take inventory of their meager supplies. Rick's walkie-talkie fell out of the pack and landed to the ground. She bent down to pick it up caressing the hard casing with more tenderness than should be allowed for an inanimate object. Pulling herself out of a reverie she didn't want to go into, she put the device aside and went on to finish her task.

When done she slid the pack under her cot and started to allow herself to relax. Every part of her body ached. She took down her hair from its ponytail letting it cascade over one shoulder. She reached across her body to start massaging the base of her neck.

Mike walked into the tent. He paused at the doorway taking in the weariness of her presence. Guilt ascended on him as he thought how he'd been acting since all of this started.

"You want me to do that?" He asked sitting across from her. "You've always loved my massages."

Michonne just shook her head. She slipped off her shoes and arched into a full body stretch. Mike noticed the walkie-talkie beside her.

"Why do you still have that thing?" He asked "Battery died weeks ago."

"I know," Michonne said; still not looking at him. "Maybe I'll find another battery one day. Maybe if you and Terry didn't decide to use up all the juice playing on it the night we were robbed it would still be working."

Mike ignored the accusation partly because it was true, but mostly because he didn't want to fight with her anymore. "You think Deputy Grimes is still out there somewhere?"

Michonne finally looked up at him. "I do. He's a lot like me. Won't let anything stop us from finding and protecting our families."

Silence permeated the air. "You're always so sure about everything," he finally said.

"And you're always so unsure," she countered back.

"Pessimism runs in my family what can I say." His attempted joke fell flat; lost in the tension surrounding them. "I never thanked you for saving me," he paused finding it hard to say, "from Nana. I know she wasn't her anymore."

"I know it must have been hard to witness, but I won't hesitate to do what I need to do to keep us going."

"I meant what I said by the creek, Michonne. I want to try, but..." He moved to sit next to her on the cot. She looked deeply into his mournful eyes searching for the man who promised to love her always. The man who cried when their son was born.

Mike took her hands in his. "Is it really worth it to keep surviving?" He was almost pleading with her to ease his mind.

Michonne looked down at their hands. "It scares me that you have to ask." She let go of him and walked to the other side of the tent. "Each day we survive is another day with a chance of getting to the other side of this disaster. Andre deserves that chance."

Mike followed to where she stood. He grabbed her shoulders forcing her to look him in the eye. "Our baby boy deserves the world," he said.

"He does."

"I don't know if this world deserves him, but if there's a chance that there's an end to this then I want to be on the other side with you and Andre. I know I need to get my shit together, Michonne. I'm so sorry I haven't been the man I should have been, but I'm going to keep our son safe. You can count on me."

She shook her head. "What can I do with those words? They're meaningless without action. I need you to show me."

"Then that's what I'm going to do," he promised her.

* * *

"We probably don't have enough food between all of us to last the week," Sasha said as she and Michonne filled bottles of water from the creek. "There's a small shopping center about five miles east. We could load up on food and other supplies to keep us afloat for awhile. Kevin thinks we should get a group together for a run."

"You'd think a place like that had been bleed dry by now," Michonne said as she watched a field mouse scurry around a tree. It was almost laughable how she used to be afraid of such small, harmless things.

"That's the catch. It's been pretty overrun with walkers from the start. Looks like nobody has been able to touch it. A big group of us might be able to clear it."

"So kill some walkers, get some supplies. Not a bad plan. You and Tyreese going?"

"Yeah. We were hoping you'd come too. No one here is a better fighter than you." Sasha looked anxious to get her answer.

Michonne shook her head and placed the now full bottles of water into her backpack. She hoisted it over her shoulder. "I don't know if I'm comfortable leaving Andre for a long period of time. Sounds like this could take awhile."

Sasha lifted her own pack full of water to her shoulders and started walking down the trail with Michonne. "You don't trust Mike to look after him?" She asked.

Michonne sighed. "Not exactly." She scratched her ear more as a nervous tick than to subdue an itch. "But we do need to eat."

"That we do," Sasha said. She glanced side-longed at Michonne. "It's either the run or hope the confederate red-neck crew catch enough squirrels to feed us all."

Michonne nodded. "Those critters are rather small."

"We leave early tomorrow morning," Sasha went on feeling she was wearing her down. "Shouldn't take us more than a few hours. We'll be back before dinnertime."

Michonne nodded again. "That's seems doable. I just don't want to be gone overnight."

"I don't see how we would."

Michonne weighed the pros and cons in her head. "Tyreese can't stay to help watch Andre?" she asked.

Sasha put her hands in her pockets and tilted her head to the side. She was struck with curiosity about why Michonne didn't want to leave Andre with Mike. "We need Ty as much as we need you."

Michonne chewed on bottom lip as she came to a decision. "There's more of a risk in staying than in going. Starvation is a real threat." She sighed. "Okay, I'm in."

She became less confident in her decision when they entered the camp and saw Mike talking to a blond man wearing a t-shirt so dirty it could no longer be classified as white. "Isn't that one of the unsavory types you warned us about?" She asked Sasha.

"Yeah, that's Jeff. He keeps a bag full of sinus medicine in case he gets the opportunity to start a meth lab." She shook her head. "I can't with these people. Listen lets meet later to get a plan together for tomorrow."

"Sure," Michonne said absentmindedly as she continued to watch Mike and Jeff. They were whispering; their heads close together. The two men shook hands before Jeff walked away scratching his pox marked arm.

"What was that about?" She immediately asked as she walked up on Mike.

"I was just asking him to look out for us if he catches some extra squirrels." He took her water-filled backpack.

"That's all?" Michonne side-eyed him as they walked back to their tent.

Mike stopped walking. "Why does it feel like you're accusing me of something?" He asked her.

Michonne put her hands on her hips. "I know he's a drug addict. You've been doing well since we arrived here. I don't want you to revert back to your old ways."

"Baby, don't have to worry about me anymore."

Michonne scratched at her ear again. "Hmmm," was all she said. They started walking to the tent again. "Well, we may not need those squirrels. Sasha asked me to go on a run for food and supplies. We're dangerously low on both. It's just a day trip."

"All right. Sounds good," he said.

Michonne hesitated; thinking of a way to sound diplomatic, but nixed that quickly in favor of the bluntness the situation called for. "I need to know I can trust you to keep Andre safe while I'm gone. No bullshit. I need his safety to be your top priority."

"Haven't I've been doing that the last couple of weeks?" Mike said irritated that she would even ask.

She let out an exasperated sigh. "You haven't had to take care of him without me. This is new territory."

"Michonne you have to learn how to trust me," he said. "I didn't miss how you left Andre with Tyreese while you and Sasha were gone. He's my son. I should be the one protecting him."

Michonne was unapologetic. "Ty is a great fighter and amazing with kids. Besides trust has to be earned. I can't just completely forget about everything."

Mike lifted the flap to their tent so they could walk in. He didn't want to admit the jealously he felt at her having more faith in another man to take care of their child. "I will lay down my life for Andre. Go on that run. Get us some food. We'll be all right."

Michonne rubbed the space between her eyebrows feeling a headache coming on. "Don't let him leave your side. And don't leave him with Terry. I know he's still drinking."

Mike kissed her forehead. "I got this, baby."

"With your life, Mike. You have to promise me." Michonne pleaded

He mimed a criss cross motion over his chest. "Cross my heart and hope to die."

* * *

Michonne woke up the next morning before dawn. Her stomach felt queasy as unease made her sweat even though the morning was cool. She turned her head to a wide awake Andre smiling at her. She immediately felt better as she smiled back at her sunshine.

"Hi, Mommy."

"Hey Peanut." She kissed him on the nose and moved to her side to cuddle him. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Pancakes," he shouted.

She held him tighter. "Oh, baby. Mommy doesn't have any pancakes, but I'm going to go today to get you lots of good things. Okay?"

"'kay Mommy."

"And you're going to stay with Daddy?" She rubbed his face and couldn't stop placing more kisses on his chubby cheeks.

"Yes," he said sweetly.

"And you're going to be a good boy for Mommy?"

"Yes," he said again with a laugh. She tickled him and her heart soared as his face erupted in laughter.

She swung her feet to the ground and took a few more moments to hold Andre close before reaching over to wake up Mike. "Hey, it's time to get up. I have to go."

He sat up wiping the sleep from his eyes. "Hmmm? Oh yeah." He wiped at his nose. "Be safe out there." He took Andre from her and laid back down on his cot.

Michonne started to feel disappointment that he wasn't going to walk her out, but let it go quickly. This wasn't the time for first world feelings. She gathered her empty backpack and sword. Taking one last look at her boys the queasy feeling returned to her stomach. She ignored her gut figuring worry was clouding her perception and walked outside. She spotted Terry and Jeff talking by the man's rusted RV. She shook herself to get her focus back at the task at hand. If her mind was back here at the camp she would be no good out there fighting walkers. She slipped her hands into her fingerless gloves and joined the team that was gathering at the entrance.

* * *

The time on Tyreese's watched read 5:02 pm. He led the group through the woods as they made their way back to camp. Everyone was in good spirits as they had acquired what was considered a small fortune in this day and age. It took some work, but they had been able to dispatch the walkers milling outside and inside the stores. Michonne was particularly excited about several Big Cats she found to share with Andre.

They were a mile away from camp when fog started to swirl around them. Michonne placed a hand on Sasha's arm stopping her.

"You hear that?" She whispered.

"Yeah," Sasha whispered back. She pulled out her knife. "Hey Ty, guys, stop."

The rest of the group stopped as they now heard what sounded like feet shuffling. The sounds amplified until it was right on them. The cold hand of a walker pushed against Michonne. More walkers than any of them had seen since this war on the living started to emerge from the fog.

"Run," Tyreese yelled.

The group jetted down the trail. Michonne took up the rear with Tyreese. Him knocking as many of them down as he could with his hammer. Her slashing at the walkers as best she could - taking out two and three at a time - with her katana. She watched helplessly as four cornered Leslie, a sweet girl no older than nineteen. She went down screaming the most bloodcurdling sound.

"There's a cave up ahead," Sasha said out of breath. "We can't fight a herd this size."

A low-ceiling cave came into view. They crawled in fixing some foliage over the opening to camouflage their whereabouts.

They five of them sat lined up on the wall of the cave shoulder-to-shoulder. The deep, guttural sounds of the passing walkers is the only thing that could be heard.

"How long do you think we have to stay in here?" Michonne asked

wiping the sweat from her forehead

"Can't say for sure," Tyreese said. "Depends on how fast the herd moves."

They sat there barely breathing. Fearing making any sounds would give away their hiding place. Sasha glanced at Tyreese's watch. The screen read 5:53 pm.

"Shit!" Michonne yelled suddenly. She tried to stand up, but had to remain stooped.

Sasha quickly looked over to her. She saw the woman's eyes were wide with fear. "What is it?" She asked.

"The herd is going straight to the camp. We have to stop them." She went to the opening to start moving the foliage out of the way.

Tyreese stopped her. "You can't go out there. It's a suicide mission."

Michonne looked at Tyreese's hand on her arm almost as if she was contemplating if she could take him. "My son is out there in the camp, Ty. I have to do something."

"I'll help you," Sasha said. She felt guilty for convincing Michonne to leave Andre for the run. She wanted to do whatever she could to get her back there.

"Sasha -" Tyreese started.

"No, it doesn't sound like as many of them are out there anymore. We can kill the stragglers, and take the other trail that leads to the creek to go around the rest."

Tyreese nodded. "That's not a bad plan." He looked at the rest of the group. "You guys in?" The two men gave a fearful head shake.

Michonne went out first. A handful of walkers were scattered blocking their path. Once she knew Tyreese and Sasha were behind her she ran up on one walker decapitating it. She kicked another in the stomach and pierced its brain once it fell to the ground.

The trio rushed to the trail leading to the creek succeeding in circumventing the herd. Michonne picked up the pace once reaching the creek knowing the camp wasn't much further away.

She stopped abruptly at the entrance of the camp. Her vision seemed to go into slow motion. She heard muffled screams. The fences laid all around in disarray. Tattered pieces of the confederate flag were at her feet. A man she thought she recognized wearing an army green vest and a greasy ponytail ambled towards her with new eyes and a guttural sound in his throat.

Tyreese knocking him to the ground and stomping on his head jolted her back. Walkers were everywhere overrunning the camp.

"No," Michonne screamed as she ran towards her tent. "No, no, no, no."

* * *

Rick stood over the hood of the truck looking intensely at the map. He was supposed to be finding the best route to drop Randall off for the second time, but his mind was elsewhere. The lines on the map turned into images of Shane screwing his wife. He tossed the map to the side and leaned further over the hood with his face buried in his hands. He only allowed himself a few moments of self-pity before standing upright again.

His hands released and contracted into fists as he walked to his tent. He'd never felt a stronger urge to hit something. At the same time he needed someone to tell him everything was going to be okay. The familiar feeling of nobody being on his side crept up on his psyche.

The walkie-talkie stuck out from the side of his duffel bag. He hadn't turned it on since before Carl was shot. Michonne face came into his mind - as it often did. He pressed the on button feeling relieved there was still some juice left in the battery.

He left the tent making his way to the outskirts of the farm. Sitting in the dirt near the windmill, he pressed the on button again. He looked up to the sky before placing the speaker at his mouth.

"It was a beautiful day today, Michonne. The sun hasn't been as harsh. There was even a cool breeze this morning. Maybe you're somewhere enjoying the weather too. Andre on your lap, hair blowing in the wind." He picked at the grass under his feet. "I wanted to tell you I get it now. I do. It's not so easy being strong. In fact it's one of the worst fucking things there is." He grimaced into the wind. "How do you deal with so many people depending on you, but at the same time they're questioning every decision you make? Especially if your wife is one of those people?" He leaned his head back on the base of the windmill. "Lori's pregnant. I guess I should be celebrating, but I'm fresh out of cigars. There's a really good chance it's my best friend's." He let out a chocked laugh. "How's that for a welcome home. I told her I understood. She really did think I was dead, but inside I'm raging." He scratched his temple and watched the horizon for any sign of walkers. "I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. I guess I just need a friend too. I know you're still out there. You have to be." He paused closing his eyes. He voice went down to a whisper. "I know it was only one day we spent together but I..." His voice trailed off. "Just...just still be out there. Remember you promised me you'd be all right and I really need you to be."

"Rick where you at?" He heard Daryl call him from Hershel's front porch.

Rick sighed feeling the weight of the world on him. "Duty calls once again. Never a dull moment is there? I'll see you soon, Michonne."


End file.
